Broken Arrow
by Jasper98
Summary: After the skitter invasion, two teenagers find themselves - and each other - while trying to survive ruthless criminals and the ever-increasing threat of the skitters.
1. Chapter 1 - Noah

**I adore this show, so I had to write a fanfic on it. Enjoy and review!**

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Noah-

The day was cold, that I remembered primarily. It wasn't snowing, but cold enough to make me wish I had a heavier jacket than just my fleece North Face. The company had promised to keep me warm if I wore this thing under ten degrees Fahrenheit, but it was at least forty degrees out, and I was freezing already.

Oh well. It wasn't like I could go and return it now. I had my father's old hunting knife in my belt and a backpack with me, with it's sparse contents - a sleeping bag, a crushed up granola bar, a flashlight with dead batteries and a photo of my parents. Both were dead now, lost to the skitters. I tried not to think about it.

I kept walking in the woods; it was safer than suburbs and especially the cities. I never came across people, and very rarely did I meet any skitters. In that case, I had to hide. I knew what the skitters did to people my age, and I'd already decided that I would rather kill myself than be one of their slaves.

I passed through a relatively cleared section of the forest, and I presumed it must have been a trail at one point. I stepped over a moss-coated boulder, and my ankle caught on a piece of rope. Before I could even process what was happening, I found myself swinging up through the air, my head smacking the side of a boulder. I found myself hanging upside down, swinging by a rope secured tightly around my ankle.

"Augh!" I cried out, as a string of expletives flew from my mouth. My head was throbbing, and a check from my hands told me I was also bleeding. Great. I prayed there were no skitters around, because if they hadn't heard me swearing, the commotion of me swinging through the branches had to attract their attention.

After taking several seconds to calm down, I tried to get my bearings. The tree branch where the trap had been set was strong and sturdy, and I tried to swing up to grab the room, but I wasn't strong enough.

Suddenly, I heard a rustling in the trees, and I stopped cold. I wasn't dumb enough to think it was just an animal. It had to be a skitter, nothing else made sense. My heart was racing; they had to have heard me. I was going to die, right here, right now, undefenseless. My knife had fallen out and lay several feet away, and my backpack hung upside down over my shoulders. I had nothing.

The bushes cleared, and I braced myself for the worse, a...girl. She had dirty blonde hair in a ponytail and a bow in one hand, a quiver of arrows slung over her back. She sighed in disappointment when she saw me, and folded her arms over her chest. "Ugh...I was hoping a deer or something interesting..." She sighed, and walked up to me, standing face to face with me.

"Ah...a little help?" I managed, but it came out high and whiny. She snorted, then noticed my bleeding head.

"Dear God, you managed to hurt yourself," She touched the blood on my head, and wiped it on her pants, then crossed behind me, going behind the tree. "Brace yourself, I'm going to let you down now."

I extended my arms and was suddenly toppling a few feet towards the ground. I landed on my back, and groaned. "Thanks," I muttered sarcastically. I got up, freed my ankle and retrieved my knife. When I turned back around, the girl was seated, sorting through the contents of my backpack.

"Hey!" I cried, running over and snatching it from her. "That's mine!"

"Just curious," She pushed the backpack away from her, and I snatched it up possessively. I was about to stand up again, when she grabbed my wrist and pulled me down again. "Let me take care of your head. You're bleeding a lot."

"You got supplies?" I sat down, as she took out several strips of cloth and began to wipe away the blood. "I don't know your name."

"Fletcher," She said.

"That's not your real name," I retorted.

"It's my last name," She scowled, and I realized I might have offended her. "And it's a pretty damn good one too. What's your name?"

"Noah," I replied. "Noah Holtz. Are you on your own?"

"Yeah," She began to tie a bandage around my head. "Whole family is dead. Most of my friends are too. I really don't know anymore. I just hunt and live out here. How about you?"

"You live alone?" I cried, astonished. "How are you not dead?!"

"I could ask you the same question, seeing as though you've only got that knife," Fletcher retorted. "How did the skitters not get you?"

"I just move a lot, on my own. I'm good at hiding," I gestured to her bow and arrows. "Where'd you get that?"

"I stole it," She said unabashedly. "Early in the invasion. My parents hated the idea, but as things got worse..." She paused for a moment and pressed her fingers to her nose. "I taught myself how to shoot. Do you hunt Noah?"

I started to answer, when all of a sudden, she shushed me, pivoting to her feet and drawing out an arrow from her bow. Her eyes, like a hawk's scanned the area, searching for her target.

"What do you see?" I whispered.

"I can hear movement," She said under her breath. "Get up and get behind me."

Without question, I did as she said and looked around. She wordlessly pointed down the vacant trail and mouthed, "Run, now. I'm right behind you."

Panicky, I did as she said, skirting alongside the trail. I kept casting looks back at Fletcher, when all of a sudden, a screech filled the air, and a skitter jumped right in front of me.

I cried out in shock, and then an arrow went whipping by my head and struck the skitter in the face. "Whoa, what?" I cried, falling back on my knees. Quicker than I could process it, Fletcher had reloaded her bow and fired three more into the skitter. It stopped moving and sank to the ground, dead.

I stared at her in shock as she ran over towards the skitter and extracted the arrows, wiping the blood on her pants. "We have to get out of here," She announced. "There's got to be more lurking around here."

"We?" I raised an eyebrow.

"You're hurt, and it's safer to travel in groups," She said firmly. "Are you coming or not?"

There was another screech in the forest, and I got to my feet. "Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2 - Fletcher

**Here's chapter two! It alternates POV's between Noah and Fletcher. Anyway, I was really tired when I wrote this, so forgive any mistakes. Enjoy and review!**

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Fletcher-

Noah and I circled back to my campsite, where I quickly packed up my meager supplies. I destroyed my handmade shelter and scattered the ashes from my fire around in the brush. I couldn't leave evidence of my time here, if anyone was on my trail. And you always had to assume that there was at least somebody.

"You made all this yourself?" Noah asked, helping me cart off one of the heavy branches I'd used to build my lean-too.

"Yup," I said, and cast it into some bushes. "Alright, that should do it." I sighed, and looked at Noah. He seemed like the quiet type, who was geeky at school and didn't say much in public, but when you got him out of his shell, he wouldn't shut up. His brown hair was cropped short, and dirty, but everyone was dirty. He was taller than me by a good few feet, and was sturdily built, but everything from the way he spoke to his posture told me that he wasn't a threat. That, and the way he screamed after the skitter came after him.

"You just taught yourself?" He asked in disbelief, and I handed him a duffel bag full of my things. "All on your own?"

"I learn quickly," I said lightly as we set off through the forest. "You have to, if you're going to live out here alone. Which, by the way, it amazes me that a guy like you is still alive."

"Oh, thanks," Noah muttered sarcastically.

"No, really..." I pressed. "How did you make it this far? You don't have any weapons, except for the knife, which you didn't even draw when the skitter came after you. So you can't be used to hunting. Do you scavenge, or what?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Noah looked down. "You don't get a lot, but I'm still here, aren't I?"

"When was your last full meal?" I asked quietly, surprised at myself. I never offered favors.

"What?" Even Noah seemed surprised.

"When did you last eat?" I tried again. "Something substantial? Like meat."

"Meat?" He scoffed bitterly. "Not since my parents..." He suddenly stopped, catching himself. I knew the story all too well, and knew better than to ask questions.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. We reached a huge, open field, and began to walk around the edges. It looked clear enough. "Here, sit down." I gestured to a spot under a shady tree, taking a seat on the forest floor. I dug into my backpack and produced a piece of dried venison, wrapped in old tinfoil. "It's cold, but I don't want to make a fire."

Noah's eyes lit up, and he took the meat hungrily. "I can have it?" He asked.

"It's all yours - precooked and everything." I leaned back and smiled, watching him enjoy this moment. He devoured the venison with his bare hands, not having utensils. I could tell he hadn't come across real food in a long time.

"Fletcher, you are a saint," He said softly, looking at me with awe. "Honestly, you are amazing."

"Oh, stop," I smiled, savoring his compliments. "Come on, we still have a ways to go."

"Where are we headed to?" He asked. We cut through the field, and I savored the sun on my skin, especially since it was cold out.

"No idea," I muttered. "But not towards the city, I'll tell you that. There's skitter factories everywhere, Noah. And you know what they do to you if they find you." I shuddered; it was a fate worse than death. I'd never be their slave, not ever.

"Did you ever see one?" He asked. "A factory. Where they...they harness..."

"An outside of a few," I replied. "I don't like hanging around them though. There's skitters and mechs crawling all over those places. You never want to get caught."

"Of course," Noah murmured. We cleared a hill, and I stopped cold.

Before us, and I mean, directly before us, was a camp, with around seven or so pitched tents, just sprung up right there in the field. A dull fire was burning softly, and the few people that were there were all staring at us in shock.

"Drop your weapons," I heard a gruff voice, and saw a man pointing a rifle with a bayonet on the end at Noah and I.

"We're just passing through," I said gently, raising my palms in the air. "We mean to harm."

"I said, drop your weapons," The man snarled. "Which means drop the bow and arrows. And you," He pointed the rifle at Noah. "Hand over the knife."

"Give me reassurance that you'll give them back," Noah said, in a surprising display of firmness.

"I can put a bullet through you and your girlfriend's heads, if that's enough reassurance," The man snarled, advancing towards Noah. I stepped in between them, pushing them apart.

"Stop," I said firmly. "We don't want trouble, and we don't want to cause any harm. We're just passing through, that's all. We're going to leave now, and just as a warning, we ran into a skitter earlier, so keep your eyes out for more in the area."

"I don't need your help," The man snapped.

"Just friendly advice," I said placidly. "There's no need to get angry -"

"You watch your mouth, girl!" He shouted, slashing out at me with the bayonet on the end of his rifle. I cried out in pain, as fire spread throughout my insides, and fell back. Noah caught me before I hit the ground, and I struggled to get to my feet again.

"You picked the wrong people to mess with!" Noah shouted angrily, but I laid a hand on his arm.

"Don't," I murmured, blood seeping through my shirt. I pressed my hands to my stomach, trying to staunch the flow of blood. "Leave it, Noah."

"You need to see a doctor -"

"I'm fine!" I shouted tersely. "Leave!" Noah gave me a look, and then stared down the man with the bloody bayonet. My blood. I felt woozy.

"You hurt her," Noah said, anger pouring from his words. "I hope you remember her face when you go to sleep tonight. I hope you never forget it. Come on, Fletcher." He helped me walk away, keeping an eye on the man with the gun. Once we were out of sight, I allowed myself to collapse, falling onto the bushes.

"Fletcher!" Noah cried, and I shut my eyes tight. I was dizzy from the pain and blood loss. "Oh, God, you're really hurt..."

"How bad is it?" I pulled up my shirt to reveal an abdomen so covered in blood I couldn't even see the wound. "Shit."

"I have to find a doctor," Noah said, jumping to his feet. "No, wait, I have to stop the bleeding. Here." He took off his jacket and wrapped it tightly around my stomach, pressing down on the wound. I groaned.

"Fletcher, just - just hold on," He was panicking, I could tell. "I have to leave you, but I'll be back. You'll die without a doctor, without medicine or something."

"Noah, nobody is...augh, dying," I muttered, clenching my stomach. "Go and find a doctor, if it makes you happy."

"I can just leave you?" He looked concerned. That was new. "I'll only be gone for a little while - an hour or two. Just...make yourself comfortable, alright?" He dropped his backpack beside me and opened it up, pulling out a sleeping bag. "So you don't get cold."

He helped me into the bag, and helped me hide under the shelter of the bushes. "Noah, you'll freeze," I reminded him.

"An hour, two at most," He promised. "I'll get you help, Fletcher. You saved my life, and now I need to save yours."


	3. Chapter 3 - Noah

Noah-

I stumbled through the brush, my heart racing. This was all happening way too quickly. I'd met Fletcher, after being caught in one of her traps, gotten my ass saved by her after a skitter attack, and then she was hurt by that psychopath with the bayonet and I was her only chance at survival.

And her chances were low. She insisted it was only a scratch, but I saw how deeply that man had cut her, and if she didn't die from blood loss, then she would die of infection. And I knew I wasn't completely stable either. My head felt foggy, and my steps were wobbly. I felt the bandage over my forehead, and was relieved to find the blood had dried. The doctor, I thought, wouldn't just be for her, but probably for my head too. I had to have a concussion.

I wasn't exactly sure where I was going either, not having a compass or a watch. I promised Fletcher two hours and I'd be back, but if I wasn't even sure about where I was going, much less the time. Fingering the knife in my belt nervously, I kept my eyes peeled for skitters or anyone prowling the woods, and tried to head east, following the opposite direction of the sun.

It was getting a lot colder as the minutes went on, and I shivered in only my long-sleeved baseball tee. I thought about Fletcher, and how defenseless she was, wounded and freezing, bleeding out. I owed her, and I wasn't about to give up on her now.

I crossed a hill and found I was suddenly in the suburbs, staring out at vacant lots and empty houses. Abandoned cars stood like skeletons in the road, doors wrenched open, their contents looted. There was literally no one around, that I could see.

Sighing, I jogged up to the nearest houses and began trying doors. If it was unlocked, I moved on, knowing nobody could be inside. If it was locked, I pounded on the door, looked in the windows for signs of people.

The wind picked up, and it got colder. My stomach was growling with hunger again, and I knew I should get back to Fletcher. I was so desperate to find someone, anyone that would help us. I jogged up to another house and tried the door - locked.

I pounded on the door, my fists now chaffed and tired. "Is anyone here?" I shouted, my voice high with desperation. "Please, my friend is hurt..."

Friend. Was that what I was supposed to call her? It hadn't even been twelve hours that I'd known her and I knew that I wouldn't disappoint her. I knew nothing about her except that she was all by herself, tough as nails and a million times braver than I was.

"Son, what are you doing?" I heard an old man's voice several feet behind me, and spun around, raising my knife. A man wearing a hunting jacket with a scraggly beard stood behind me. I saw a pistol in his belt.

"Do you know where I can find a doctor, a nurse, an EMT or something?" I pleaded. "My friend's really hurt and she's going to die if I can't find help soon."

"How hurt?" The man raised an eyebrow. "Come with me. My wife is, well, was a nurse."

"She got her stomach slashed open by some crazy guy with a bayonet," I sighed in relief, following him down the street. "He wanted us to surrender our weapons and she wouldn't. Just one of those over-protective types, I suppose." I was jumpy and nervous, and wanted him to walk faster, but I didn't dare push it.

The man unlocked a door to a modest, one-level ranch house and once we were inside, quickly bolted it shut. "Peggy!" He cried, and a thin, wiry woman with a nest of white hair slowly walked into view. She used a walker, and I realized that she was never going to make the trek back to Fletcher.

"Harv, who is this?" She asked, her voice in the same pitch as you'd stereotype an elderly grandmother's to be. I sank back, tired and dejected. There was no way. How could I possibly tell Fletcher this?

Suddenly, I was filled with an idea as Harv began to explain to her my situation. Couldn't I bring Fletcher to her? It take a lot of carrying, and a lot of hard work stumbling through the forest in the dark.

"I can bring her here," I said determinedly. I slid off my backpack, and took out the dead flashlight. "Do you have extra batteries? I'll bring her here. She's a long ways away, and really hurt. It's getting darker..."

"Of course, dear," Peggy smiled softly, and slowly began to walk over to the cabinet. "I can't move as fast as I used too, but I still know my stuff."

She handed me the batteries, which I slid into the flashlight. I turned it on, flooding the room with light. "Thanks," I smiled, and was about to walk out the door when Harv stopped me, holding an old parka with a fur-lined hood. It was all black and looked incredibly warm.

"Take it," He said. "It used to be my son's." I stared at him in awe, then took the coat, sliding into it. Instantly, I felt better.

"Fletcher - my friend - can hunt," I said in a rush of worlds. "She'll repay you, I promise."

"Go, my boy," Harv opened the door. "Before it gets too dark."


	4. Chapter 4 - Fletcher

Fletcher-

It grew darker, and as the light was sucked out of the sky with the setting sun, the temperature fell as well. The burning in my stomach now had ceased, and was replaced by a horrible, but bearable, ache that spread all the way across my abdomen.

I made myself eat, my fingers covered in dried blood, but found I had little appetite. I was tired, and exhausted, and yet there was this nagging fear inside me that if I fell asleep, I'd die.

The night wore on, and I forced myself to stay awake. Doubts swam throughout my idle mind about Noah Holtz. He'd probably run off now, long gone. It was nice enough that he'd given me his sleeping bag, but I'd been stupid to actually trust him.

I wanted to check up on the wound, but that would involve me unzipping the sleeping bag, thus sending the cold, night air all through the warm space I'd struggled so hard to establish. I moved both my hands under the sleeping bag over my stomach and kept them there, feeling my stomach rise and fall with every breath I took.

And for the first time since the invasion, since the death of my family, since I had established my life on my own, I was terrified. Because I was going to die, here, alone, in the woods. _Alone._

Up until now, that word didn't scare me. It meant serenity, peace, freedom to do as I pleased. Now it just meant that no one was there to comfort me, no one was here to watch me go.

I grit my teeth and told myself I wouldn't cry, that I was better than that. Screw Noah, I knew he wasn't coming back, and as nice as he had seemed, he had left me alone.

I groaned, staring up at the sky, so clear and full of stars. Would that be the last thing I saw? There were so many it almost made me dizzy, or maybe that was the blood loss. I shut my eyes to stop the swaying vision.

"Fletcher," I heard someone calling my name, and I opened my eyes, certain I was dreaming. Someone was stomping through the forest, making too much noise to be a skitter. It was a person. "Fletcher..."

"Noah?" I called back in disbelief. Now I was certain that this wasn't real. Noah hadn't come back, he was far away now, not tied down with an injured, half-dead girl.

"Fletcher!" He cried, and I saw the sweep of a flashlight land on me. I squinted, and saw he was without his backpack and wearing a massive parka that looked very warm. I wanted it. He looked exhausted, but relieved when he saw me.

"Where's my doctor?" I teased, my voice scratchy and weak.

"I found a nurse, but she's old and I have to take you to her," He paused, kneeling beside me. He took my bow and arrows and began hiding them under a blanket of leaves.

"Hey!" I cried, trying to sit up, but a slice of pain ripped open my stomach. Groaning, I fell back to my seat. "What are you doing?"

"Concealing these, I'll come back for them later. You're more important," Noah pushed a branch over them and wiped his hands. I smiled a little, but only just. _You're more_ _important._

"How far away is this?" I asked, as Noah reached for me. I wrapped one arm around his neck, and still in the sleeping bag, he lifted me in his arms. It felt strange, being held, which I was positively sure hadn't happened since I was a baby.

"A couple miles," He said, beginning to walk. "Hold the flashlight."

"Noah, there's no way you can find your way back in the dark," I said quietly, but he appeared not to listen. I swallowed, and gingerly rested my head against his shoulder, watching him intently to gauge his reaction.

Noah's eyes flicked over towards me, and then away again, and I slowly moved my head back, feeling embarrassed. I barely knew the guy, and certainly not enough to be -

"You're fine," He interrupted my thoughts, a barely detectable smile on his lips. I pressed my own tightly together and allowed myself to relax a little, placing my head on the crook of his shoulder, closing my eyes.

The gentle swaying of Noah's footsteps nearly brought me to sleep again, and I struggled to stay awake. "Talk to me," I said firmly. "I'm going to fall asleep, and if I do, I won't wake up."

"Oh, okay..." Noah appeared a bit taken aback by my question. "Well, what about?"

"What did you do before the invasion?" I asked, my eyelids drooping. "Sports, hobbies, that stuff. Were you religious?"

"I was actually a Mormon," Noah gave a small laugh. "Although I guess there's not really a Church anymore. There's no temple to go to anyway. As for hobbies - and you'll think this is gay, but it's not - I did theatre."

"Wow, a Broadway - loving Mormon?" I snorted. "I was not expecting that in the slightest. And you're not..."

"One hundred percent straight," Noah declared. "Although I had a couple friends..."

I gave a dry laugh. "Sing me a song," I teased.

"A Mormon song?" Noah raised an eyebrow.

"No, stupid, a 'theatre' song," I snorted. "I'd ask you to dance too, but you kind of can't."

"Oh, okay..." Noah thought for a moment, then his face lit up. "We're a special kind of people known as show people/ We live in a world of our own/ Our days are tied to curtains/ They rise and they fall/ We're born every night/ At half-hour call."

I was surprised to hear he had a decent voice, and applauded with one hand still around his neck. "Not bad. Where's that from?"

"Curtains," He replied. "It was a show I did ages ago. One of my favorites though. How about you, Fletcher? Who were you before?"

I yawned. "My parents were strict Catholics - Mass every Sunday, Confession every Saturday kind of people. I hated going to church, not because I didn't believe in God, but because they wanted me too. We butt heads a lot."

"Do you still think there's a God?" Noah asked, as if someone was watching and he was afraid he'd get in trouble by speaking this blasphemy aloud.

"Sometimes I do," I said after a while. "When I want there to be one. When I want to think that there's something for me after I die. But if I believe that there isn't a God, then I get to believe that there isn't a Hell, either, and that's reassuring, because if there is a God, then I'm certainly going down there."

"Why would you say that?" Noah frowned.

"I'm not a very good person," I muttered, looking away. "I've done some pretty bad stuff."

"You saved me," Noah said quietly. "If you were really so bad, you would have let me die. You barely knew me. That has to count for something."

"Maybe I'm trying to make up for the bad things I've done. And this..." I gestured to my wound. "Is karma's way of giving it back to me."

"Whatever you did couldn't have been that bad," Noah frowned. "At least you're trying to make up for it."

"It was bad," I said under my breath. "Worse than you could ever think of." If Noah heard me, he said nothing. We walked in silence for a while, and just as I was about to fall asleep again, I heard Noah said gently, "We're here."

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**Okay, just to clear up any misunderstanding, I don't hate Mormons or Catholics or gay people or theatre people. I'm Catholic and adore theatre, and some of my really good friends are Mormon, and others are gay. I'm tolerant of every race, creed, whatever, so long as they are tolerant. Anyway, reviews are greatly appreciated! ;)**


	5. Chapter 5 - Noah

Noah-

Fletcher finally allowed herself to sleep when I reached Harv and Peggy's home. I knocked on the door, and Harv answered, ushering us inside before someone saw the light.

"This is her?" Peggy asked, and I laid Fletcher down on the floor of the living room. Slowly, Peggy eased herself down, so that she was kneeling next to her. "She's pretty."

I stammered out a reply, then just decided to stop talking for fear of sounding ridiculous. I resorted to what I knew instead. "Her stomach's been ripped up really bad. She talked to me the entire trip, because she was scared of falling asleep. She's lost a ton of blood already."

"Let's have a look," Peggy said, lifting up her shirt, and I looked away out of respect. "Oh," She murmured. "Harv, get a bucket full of water, and the baking soda. Noah, there are some towels in the closet."

I obediently got up and obeyed, taking out the towels and a few rags too. When I returned, Peggy took a washcloth and began to gently wipe off Fletcher's stomach. Then I began to see exactly how bad her injury was. The flesh was torn and underneath, I could see bits of torn intestines. It made me sick to my stomach, and yet, I couldn't look away.

Peggy mixed some of the baking soda with water and began to pour it over Fletcher's wound. Fletcher awoke then, crying out in pain. "It's just disinfectant," Peggy said gently, and I grabbed Fletcher's hand.

"You're safe," I promised her, and she squeezed my hand in a death grip, breathing hard. "She's going to help you get better."

"I didn't think you'd come back," She said tightly. "I thought you were leaving me. To die."

"You're not going to die!" I said firmly. "Look at me!" Fletcher's eyes moved to meet mine and I saw just how terrified she really was, her facade of a strong, solo hunter now gone. "You're a fighter; I've known you for less than a day, and I at least know that. You're too strong to give up now."

"Words can't save me," Fletcher gave a dry smile. "Sorry to disappoint you, Noah." I turned to Peggy.

"What does she need?" I asked.

"A surgeon," She muttered. "How about I talk to you about this in the other room?"

"No," Fletcher said firmly. "He's not my keeper. This involves me too. I want to hear it."

"Your small intestine's been ripped open," Peggy said softly. "And I can't fix that. You need to find a doctor, or a surgeon. Even a veterinarian would be good. The best I can do now is disinfect the wound and keep you comfortable."

"Until I die," Fletcher said softly. I opened my mouth to protest but Peggy was quicker.

"Yes," She said quietly. Fletcher closed her eyes, breathing hard out through her nose.

"Alright then," Fletcher muttered. "Do you have any booze?"

"Don't answer that," I interrupted. "Where's the nearest settlement?"

"If I knew, we'd be there," Peggy said, and I sighed. "Do you have a map then? Our best hope is to find a city or town and search for a doctor there."

"Harv?" Peggy called, slowly getting to her feet. "Kindly fetch the map."

"Noah," Fletcher looked up at me. "You don't have to do this. You've done enough for me, and appreciate that, but go any further and you're wasting your time. I'm sorry."

"No," I said firmly, taking the map from Peggy and scanning it over. "The nearest city is Summerville. Maybe there's some people there who can help us."

"We'll get captured by the skitters - "

"No we won't!" I cried, impatient and frustrated by Fletcher's attitude. "Come on, Fletcher, don't you want to live?!"

"Have you ever thought that maybe certain things happen for a reason?" She whispered. "You know the saying, people get what they had coming for them? This is what I had coming for me."

"Whatever you did couldn't possibly merit death-"

"An eye for an eye," Fletcher said tersely. "That's in the Bible, isn't it? Eye for eye, tooth for tooth."

"You didn't..." I didn't want to say it, didn't want to acknowledge it.

"I didn't steal my bow and arrows from a weapons store," Fletcher said icily. "Come on, Noah, the weapons would have been long gone first sign of the skitters. I tried to swipe them from a guy I found asleep in the wilderness. And when he caught me, I - I killed him." Fletcher breathed hard, and I could tell she was remembering every single detail. "I stabbed him, with a knife, in the chest. And I took all his stuff too. At the time, I didn't even think twice about it either. I just needed to survive, because my parents were dead and I had nothing. _Nothing!"_ Her eyes threatened tears but she wouldn't give in. "It wasn't even a legitimate reason to kill someone, not like it was self-defense or anything... I've lived with the guilt ever since though, but that doesn't make it better. It doesn't make up for what I did." She glared at me, her eyes full of fire. "So go, Noah. Let me go, let me die. I've done the worst sin, and you...you're practically a saint! I got what I deserved, so _let me die."_

She stared at me for a long time, almost daring me to yell at her, to push her away, repelled at the horrible thing that she had done. And I could barely believe it, that the girl who had shot down a skitter looming in on me could have killed another human being. An image came to mind of a younger-looking Fletcher, scared and small, driving a knife into the chest of a average, unsuspecting Joe, then pillaging through his possessions and running off.

"But you feel sorry, don't you?" I whispered.

"What? Of course I do," Fletcher scowled, not getting the reply she was expecting.

"Then that's what matters," I breathed, standing up and letting go of her hand. "If you can ask for forgiveness, and you are truly sorry, then you shall be forgiven. And I believe you are truly sorry."

"Noah, how can you not be upset?" Fletcher snapped. "Or at least angry in the least! I goddamn killed a man and you're not even upset!" Her voice was thick with emotion, and her eyes were swimming with tears. She was so close to crying, and she was trying so hard not to.

"We can talk more about this in the morning," I said gently. "I think that both you and me need some rest. Tomorrow we can decide where to go."

I lifted her as carefully as I could onto the sofa, wrapping the wound in her stomach delicately with gauze Peggy had out. When I was done, I made sure she was comfortable, and once she was, I turned to go.

"Noah," She murmured, and I turned back around. "I'm not really sure why I trusted you. But I'm glad I did. And...and I'm sorry for ever doubting you."


	6. Chapter 6 - Fletcher

Fletcher-

The next thing I remembered was falling asleep. And I slept a lot, so much that my dreams were long, vivid, and intense, the kind I couldn't wake up from. I dreamt mostly of Noah, only he were hurt, and I safe. And I was never strong enough, never able to carry him to safety. He was dying and it was my fault, all my fault...

I awoke one day in a cold sweat, breathing hard. Noah was at my side, pressing a washcloth to my face and neck. He told me I had a fever - infection, I assumed - and had been unconscious for the past few days. I responded by vomiting in his lap, and then crying because I felt so bad. He was very nice about it though, and I half expected him to pull away, disgusted, but he didn't.

Later that night, I heard him speaking in low, hushed tones to Harv. I couldn't hear their conversation, but I already knew it was about me. I felt so sick, my body raging with infection, that I wanted to die, wanted to quit, partially so Noah wouldn't have to feel obliged to take care of me, and partially so that every cell in my body would stop fighting this disease, this toxic menace that ate away at everything I had left.

Noah came over to me, the next morning and lifted me up in his arms. "I have to take you to Charleston. Harv said that there's rumors of a settlement there, and they'll definetly have someone who can take care of you."

"My bow..." I murmured, as he wrapped me up in a coat. It was too hot, but I knew outside had to be freezing.

"I have it," Noah said, sliding on his backpack and lifting up...my steel bow and quiver of arrows! I nearly wept when I saw it, and I could have kissed him, I was so grateful.

"Noah, you are a saint," I murmured, running my hands along the cold, smooth bow. I wondered when he had gotten it.

"Latter day," He chuckled to himself.

"What?"

"Never mind," He turned into the kitchen and set me down on a chair, then turned to Peggy and Harv. "You've done more than enough to help us. Especially Fletcher. And once we're safe in Charleston - _she's_ safe - then I promise I will make it up to you."

He hugged each of them in turn, and I spoke up, my voice dry and cracking. "Thank you, both of you, or I would have died out there. And once I'm better, I'll repay you as well."

"Best of luck to both of you," Peggy said kindly.

"Keep your eyes open all the time for skitters and those who might cause trouble," Harv said sternly. "You are at a constant risk, and she is an added burden - "

"A burden I gladly take," Noah said firmly.

"I know, son," Harv said solemnly. "But you are responsible for two people instead of one. She is completely helpless. I cannot tell you this journey will be easy, but you have our prayers."

"Thank you, we'll need them," Noah said softly, lifting me up again. I wrapped both arms around his neck, trying to make his load easier. He walked out the door, and we were gone.

* * *

Noah trudged through the forest, following the map Harv had given to him towards Charleston. He had to stop frequently, and I felt guilty, because I was absolutely useless. He grew more tired with every day, but he never complained.

My condition worsened, and my weight plummeted. Our food supplies were running low, and Noah always gave me more than I deserved. Eventually, I snapped at him, because he needed the strength more than I did, and the contents of my stomach were soon in the bushes not long after I'd eaten.

Noah continued to walk, and I was a wreck. Daily, I could not see the purpose of Noah dragging me along, driven to find someone who could save me. Other days, I just cried, horrible, wretched sounds that sounded like they were coming from someone else. When these episodes occurred, Noah stopped, found a quiet, secluded spot, and let me sob into his chest. He never said a word about it afterward either, never acknowledged my painful weakness. Our food had run out, and we barely made two miles a day. Even Noah was weak too, and both of us delirious from lack of food and sleep.

Everyday, Noah started out with, "We're so close to Charleston, Fletcher. We'll be out of here soon." And every day, I knew he was deluding himself, because we were hopelessly lost, wandering the vacant countryside.

One day, Noah didn't even get out of his sleeping bag. I was shivering, my body racked with chills, and I was sure he was some sort of sick as well. "Fletcher, I need a day...to rest."

"Noah," I whispered, my voice harsh and scratchy. "I'm going to die."

"No you're not," He said, exhaustion seeping through his tone. "I've come to far to let you die."

"Noah," I was already close to him, separated only by sleeping bags. He had been uncomfortable with the idea at first, but every night grew colder, and for my sake, he finally gave in. "No, like this is my body giving up. This is _me_ giving up. I'm sorry, I know you tried, I know you wanted to get to Charleston, but I'm done. I'm already dead, Noah."

"Fletcher, please don't say that," Noah's voice was terse, and I could tell he was emotional. "I don't want to hear you say that - "

"I'm saying goodbye," I whispered. "I've only known you for a few days, and yet...I trust you. You know the horrible side of me and you didn't run, you still saw hope." I stopped, a tear running down my face. Noah reached out and caught it with his thumb, and didn't move his hand. "I'm really sorry."

"Fletcher, I - " His voice was thick with emotion, and I pressed my fevered forehead to his, closing my eyes. I just wanted him to be quiet, I wanted him to be next to me when I died. Because it was soon, I could feel it. My life was ending, so soon, so young...

"Hands up."

I didn't open my eyes, but I felt Fletcher's arm go around me protectively. He sat up, holding me with him. "She's sick," He pleaded. "And really hurt. She needs a doctor, please, I'll do anything you ask. Just save her."

When I opened my eyes, I saw a boy carrying a gun, with a soft face but aged, sad eyes, like he'd seen too much. He saw my depleted condition, and I saw Noah with tears streaking down his dusty, filthy cheeks. I didn't think he was aware I was still conscious. "Please," Noah continued. "She means the world to me."

"I can take her," The boy said gently, and suddenly I was being pulled from Noah and lifted into the arms of someone twice as strong as a normal teenage boy. "You're not far from Charleston, and we have an amazing doctor."

"Come back for me later," Noah pushed. "Just go, as fast as you can. I'll catch up."

And suddenly, we were running, and I was flying.


	7. Chapter 7 - Noah

**Thanks everyone for the continued support! **

* * *

Noah-

More people came on motorbikes, and I was driven into Charleston, thankful that my weary feet no longer had to walk. But still, I had to get to Fletcher, had to see where she was.

The strange boy who had taken her away to safety was named Ben, and I was told he used to be a harnessed kid. They had technology that allowed them to remove harnesses, and I was amazed, surprised that even existed. As we pulled into Charleston, I kept asking the grungy man, whom I was told was called Pope, about the medical system here. I told him everything about Fletcher's condition, until he finally cried out in frustration.

"Will you stop?!" He whined, annoyed. "Your girlfriend's going to be fine!"

"She's not my - " I began, but he cut me off by abruptly stopping the motorcycle in front of a building.

"We're here," He said gruffly, and I got off, gripping Fletcher's bow in my hands tightly, as I started to run for the building. "Hold on, kid!" Pope called, and I reluctantly stopped, knowing that I'd have to do as they said if Fletcher and I would be allowed to stay.

* * *

After I was given water and food, I was taken to a bearded man whom I was told was the President by the man named Pope. His office inside the compound was like all of the other rooms, one wall made of translucent glass and the walls inside unpainted. The only difference I saw right away in the President's office was that it was surrounded by army soldiers.

And it was _clean_. I was informed there was hot, running water, toilets, showers, central heating and air conditioning, real, easily accessible food...the list literally went on forever.

"Hi, I understand you're Noah?" The President stood up as I was escorted in. He shook my hand and I took a seat, staring at the massive painting hung against the wall behind his desk. "My name is Tom Mason. I just want to ask you some questions, and then I'll let you go."

"Okay," I muttered, still in shock. His office was so neat, so civilized. I was stunned.

"Can you tell me about your friend? My son, Ben, was the one who found you in the woods." Tom Mason asked gently.

"Her name is Fletcher," I said. "She was injured by a man we came across a few weeks ago with a bayonet. We found a nurse, an old woman, who told us that she needed a doctor, or else she'd die. Then Fletcher got very sick - infection probably - and I heard about Charleston's reputation for being a civilization. I had to bring her by foot, and we were on the road for days. Our food had run out and we were both exhausted. And Fletcher...she was about to die, and then Ben found us." I was quiet for a long time. "She has to live."

"How long did you know her for?" Mason asked, and I thought his questions seemed to come from natural and genuine curiosity, not for interrogative purposes.

"Two weeks."

"It sounds like you care about her a lot," Mason said kindly.

"Yeah," I stared at my lap, imagining Fletcher lying on an operating table, her stomach cut open, with a crowd of doctors surrounding her. She had to be okay, she had to live...

"Now Noah, I have to ask. Did you ever encounter any skitters? Other than far away sightings, did you ever have a personal encounter?" I told Mason of the story how I first met Fletcher, caught in her trap, and then soon later of how she saved me from the skitter. Mason nodded, impressed at her fearlessness, commenting on how strong she was. I thought back to the times when she had cried openly in front of me, finally breaking down because even the strongest of people crack. She was no different, but I knew it killed her to be weak.

"Alright, Noah," Mason stood up. "You can go. I'll arrange for living accommodations for you and Fletcher."

"Thank you, sir," I stood up and shook his hand, and went off to find the infirmary.

* * *

Escorted to a private room, I found Fletcher asleep in a bed, propped upright, her blond hair shining and washed clean. She was wearing a hospital gown, and her hands folded over her stomach. An oxygen tube and an IV were hooked up into her, and I saw just how frail and fragile she had become, her fingers and arms bony and thin.

"Fletcher, I know you can hear me," I breathed, crossing over to her and taking her hand. Carefully avoiding the tubes running in between her fingers, I laced my fingers in between hers, taking comfort in knowing that she was alive, that she had at least stabilized. "And I know that you have this whole mantra on strength, and being self-sufficient, whatever. But I'll always take care of you, I'll always look after you, even when we're here. I don't know...you've grown on me, I guess." I gave a dry chuckle, and gingerly reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're alright, you know that? You're alright."

I leaned down and kissed her forehead, closing my eyes and letting the kiss last a long time, because I doubted she'd allow me to do it again. Sighing, I got up and took a seat in a chair beside her, and closed my eyes, in need of a long nap.


	8. Chapter 8 - Fletcher

Fletcher-

I awoke to see a girl with dark hair and tan skin playing with my IV. She didn't look that much older than me, but she wore a white lab coat, which meant she either liked dress-up, or was a legitimate doctor. And I doubted the latter.

"What are you doing?" I said, my voice scratchy with disuse. "I need that."

"I'm replacing it," She said kindly. "My name is Lourdes. You're in the medical wing of Charleston."

"So I gathered," I looked around, seeing the walls were separated by curtains. I could hear muffled voices around me, and figured there were more rooms like this. "Where's Noah?"

"Noah Holtz?" Lourdes asked and I nodded. "He's come in nearly every day. They put him in a foster home. You too, considering you're both underage -"

"Underage?" I retorted. "We're both seventeen!"

"They're not my rules," Lourdes said softly. "Sorry."

"Well that's too bad because I'm not living with some family," I said, pushing myself up. I was met with a dull pain in my abdomen, but ignored it, needing to find Noah. "Where is Noah staying? I need to talk to him."

"You can't get up right now!" Lourdes cried and I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet hitting the floor. It was chilly in my paper thin hospital gown, and I wanted to know where my things were, most importantly, my bow. Did Noah have it?

"Look at me," I said, pointing a finger in her face. I didn't care if I was being rude. Things needed to happen, and they weren't. "That boy is my best and _only_ friend. Noah Holtz is the only person I care at all about anymore. He is not by my side, and I need to know where he is. So if you won't let me find out, kindly do so yourself."

"You need to lie down - "

"I've done enough lying down today, Lourdes," I narrowed my eyes and got to my feet, swaying slightly. "I need to find him." Lourdes sighed, pressing her lips tightly together, trying to work something out.

"Fletcher, right? That's what Noah said your name was. I'll tell you what: Noah hasn't come in yet today, but he probably will soon. I can send someone to find him and bring him here. Alright? That way you don't hurt yourself, and we can both stay here."

"Fine," I let Lourdes help me back into my bed, and ran my fingers through my hair, surprised that it was clean. "My hair's been washed." I said aloud.

"I've been giving you sponge baths every day since you came in," Lourdes said, checking my heart monitor. "Which was four days ago, since I know you've been wondering. It took a while to fight off the infection."

"Thanks," I muttered, staring at the tubes running through my wrists. My skin had lost it's sickly pallor, and I appeared to have gained some weight. "Was...was it a difficult surgery?"

"Dr. Glass is very experienced," Lourdes smiled. "That and the new Volm technology played a big part. You were very weak when you came in; so was Noah. But he had such faith in you that we weren't surprised when you pulled through."

I was quiet for a while, and finally said, "How many times did you say he came in? To - to see me?"

"Every day," Lourdes smiled. "Usually for several hours." I smiled at that, thinking of Noah lifting me into his arms, how safe I'd felt protected by him. Lourdes left to send for Noah, leaving me by myself.

Suddenly, a new thought entered my brain. _Why was I relying on someone else? Why was I depending on this boy, who really, I barely knew? I had to live solo, to only rely on myself, because I was the only one I could trust._

And yet Noah had never let me down. He could have - should have, to save himself - left me for dead. And yet he carried me for miles and miles, given me the last of the food, sent me to Charleston first, when he was sick as well. I remembered him kissing my sweaty, burning forehead in the old couple's house, him saying over and over again not to give up, that I was strong, that I would pull through. And every day, Lourdes had said, he'd come in to see me. A flash of memory came back to me; as the other boy was lifting me into his arms, I'd heard Noah say, "She means the world to me."

Was that true? Did he really say, and mean, that? Or was I too delusional to hear him correctly, my plagued, feverish mind creating what I secretly wanted to hear? My body suddenly felt cold, and I was faced with a frightening realization. Did I like Noah?

Lourdes entered the room again and I jumped, snapping out of my thoughts. "Guess who's here?" The curtain was pushed back, and Noah pushed through, wearing clean clothes and looking excited. He ran to my side and knelt next to the bed.

"Fletcher, thank goodness you're awake," He said, and the thoughts I'd had about him earlier resurfaced. Did he like me?

"I'll leave you two alone," Lourdes said gently and shut the curtain. _You two_. It made me shiver with excitement.

"Noah, I heard what you said," I blurted out, the words flying from my mouth. _Way to_ _go with introductions..._

"About what?" Noah said softly, and I felt guilty for even bringing it up. I had to say it though, or I'd regret it forever.

"When we were found, and I was being taken away, you said something along the lines of...she means the world to me," I sounded timid, and realized that was a new emotion for me. Was I really so afraid of how Noah felt about me that I was acting like this?

Noah looked embarrassed, looking down. "I didn't think you were conscious. I didn't think you'd heard that."

"Well I was, and I did," I said, feeling like an awkward, stupid little kid. Noah sighed.

"Alright," He pressed his lips tightly together and then spoke. "I...I hadn't planned on this, not yet anyway..."

"Did you mean it?" I asked, my eyes wide. I told myself over and over in my head that I wouldn't be upset if he said no, I wouldn't be disappointed -

"Yeah," Noah ran a hand through his hair. "I did. I - I'm sorry, this probably isn't what you were expecting, or even prepared to take right now. I know you don't feel the same way." He got up, turning towards the exit. "I should go..."

"No," I said, and he turned around, shocked.

"What?"

"No, don't go," I clarified, a huge grin spreading across my face. "Come here, you stupid idiot. Of course I feel the same way." I gave a soft chuckle and Noah sat down on the side of my bed, looking like his every wish had just come true. I grabbed his shirt in a suddenly outburst of boldness and pulled him close to me. "Just don't leave me again, okay?"

"Don't scare me like that again," He smiled, brushing back a strand of hair from my cheek. "I knew you'd pull through."

And that was when he kissed me, his embrace soft and gentle, but masking hunger and strength. I felt safe in his arms, relieved and relaxed. Because now, maybe we could start a new normal.

* * *

**Le baiser! (The kiss, if you don't speak french). I had to really force myself to not put Floah's first kiss in the first couple of chapters because I wanted it to seem more authentic. Real love isn't always at first sight, and they needed something to build on. Anyway, I hope you're enjoying it so far, and please review!**


	9. Chapter 9 - Noah

Noah-

Weeks passed, and Fletcher began to recuperate. She quickly progressed to being able to stand on her own, and then to walking. I was adjusting too, being placed into what was a lot like the old foster care system. I lived with a family of three, two parents and a little boy. They were nice enough, and left me alone to do as I pleased for the most part. I refused to establish an emotional connection with them, just because I felt as if I were intruding. I knew I didn't belong, and so did they.

One day, several weeks after we had first arrived, Fletcher caught up with me in the hall. Her mouth was twisted into a frown, her cheeks pink and her expression thoroughly pissed off.

"They're making me move in with a couple!" She shouted, causing several heads to turn our way.

"Yeah, I know, I have too - "

"I am _not_ staying with them," Fletcher poked my chest with her finger savagely. "I am not a child, I have lived on my own for _two years_ and I've been fine! I don't need a _babysitter..."_

"It would have been the same way before the invasion," I gently reminded her. "Under the circumstances."

"Well, we're not under those circumstances, are we?" Fletcher said bitterly. "I want to leave."

"What?" I retorted. "You're insane! You have security here, you have peace. Food, medicine, people who care about you. You have me, right? You can't possibly want to leave."

"Look," Fletcher lowered her voice. "I've been in enough situations like this and seen enough movies to know that society like this always collapses. The cities, the countries, they always burn. All the cities are laid to waste, but the people on the outside, they survive, they are left alone. And I want to live."

"Are you really going?" I asked in disbelief. It seemed like it had been forever ago that we'd spilled our guts out to each other, admitting the feeling that had always been there - for me anyway. And now, Fletcher had changed.

Or at least, it felt that way. I realized she had always sort of been like this, fiercely stubborn and determined to have things her way. And then it really hit me. Fletcher wasn't just leaving Charleston. She was leaving me.

"Hold on," I muttered, my palms in the air. Every tradition, every moral instilled in me as a child was telling me not to get angry, not to get upset, because rage was a sin, and so was gluttony. And I wanted Fletcher for myself. "You're not going." My voice was strained, tense, and my hands curled into fists, falling back to my sides.

"Excuse me?" Fletcher raised an eyebrow, her tone sassy. And that was it. Something then inside me snapped, and I turned on her, feeling the fury inside me like the fires of hell.

"You're not going because I'm not letting you go!" I thundered. "You think you can just walk out of here like none of this ever happened? Like you didn't almost die right in my arms? Our journey, that's _us_, that's part of _us_. Fletcher, I don't know what is making you act like this, pride, stubbornness, whatever. But you can't act like you were never hurt, like this never happened! You have to stay, here, with me, so I know you're alright, so I can protect you - "

I stopped abruptly, because Fletcher was looking at me with such shock, such disdain it frightened me. And then her palm came flying and struck me in the side of the face, snapping my head to the side before bringing on a sharp, searing pain. "You over-controlling, son of a bitch," She growled, her eyes flaming. "I thought higher of you, Noah Holtz. I thought you were a better person than this. And you people, you're all the same, aren't you?" Fletcher gave a disgusted, bitter laugh. "You only think of yourselves - "

"You hypocrite!" I cried, so frustrated I could have thrown her across the room. "That's exactly what you're doing!"

"EVERY SINGLE PERSON I'VE GOTTEN CLOSE TO HAS EITHER DIED OR DONE THIS!" Fletcher screamed at me, hot, angry tears streaming down her face. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER, THAT YOU WERE, BUT I WAS WRONG, WASN'T I?"

She turned on her heel and stormed off down the hall, her blond hair streaming behind her, and I stared at her in shock, like someone had just hit me in the chest with a bag of bricks. "I'm too afraid of losing you," I breathed, the most important part of my argument slipping out.

I knew better than to go after her in this mood, so I waited, giving her time to cool off before I went and apologized. The following day, I went to her assigned family's apartment, knocking on the door.

A distraught young woman with panicked eyes opened the door. "You're Fletcher's friend, aren't you?"

"Yeah, is she here?" I asked, trying to look inside the room.

"I don't know where she's gone too," The woman ran a hand through her hair. "She was really upset, and wouldn't tell me why. I woke up this morning and all her stuff was gone."

"Oh no..." I muttered, stepping out because this was all my fault. I could have stopped this if I had just listened to her. Now I knew why anger was such a sin, because this is what it did to people.

* * *

**Sorry this chapter is kinda short, but the next one will be longer, I promise :) Review please! Xoxox **


	10. Chapter 10 - Fletcher

Fletcher-

Noah's words still echoed in my mind, even if it had only been yesterday. "That stupid bastard," I muttered, kicking a rock out of my way. If he had only let me talk, I would have asked him to go with me, but clearly he wanted to stay. I didn't want to admit how upset I was about this, because if I did, I'd definitely burst out crying, and that would draw attention. And that was the last thing I needed.

I wore a thick coat that had been given to me, because even though Charleston was down south, the winters were still very cold. My boots had been given to me too, and I had standard-issued clothes in my backpack, along with some rations. But I didn't really need the rations, because I had my bow and arrows back.

They'd been confiscated upon my arrival, and after some searching, I figured out Pope had obtained it. I went down to his hideaway, a makeshift bar just outside the compound, and confronted him myself.

"I want my bow back," I'd said firmly, and when he had laughed, I fought the urge to punch him in the face. "I know you have it. Where is it?"

"What could you use a bow for?" Pope had scoffed, his eyes darting briefly over to the counter. I had known where it was instantly, and had bolted towards the bar, clearing the countertop and searching underneath it before Pope could even stand.

I had found the bow and quiver of arrows nestled behind some bars of chocolate, which I had pushed to the floor, and took the bow and quiver and slung both of them over my shoulder. "I'll be going now." I had announced boldly, staring down Pope, challenging him to take them from me.

"Let me buy them," He tried. "Those are nice, good quality arrows and a good bow too. I know someone with a crossbow who would like those arrows and the bow could definitely be used for hunting."

_"I _need it for hunting," I had snarled, folding my arms over my chest. "And before the invasion, I know this bow would have been valuable. More valuable than anything you could give me."

"That's a recurve bow, Pope," One of his cronies muttered. "I don't know why you'd want it; it's not very new and can't be as accurate as some of the other bows we've got."

"He's right," I'd replied. "This bow is old, you don't need it. It barely works well anyway." Those had been lies. After ages of training myself, I'd got it as close as I could to perfection, and when I didn't hunt, I'd make traps or target practice on squirrels and small game. From the man I killed, he had a couple hunting magazines on him, and I'd lucked out.

"Don't fake hypocrisy, I know you're smarter," Pope had scoffed. "If not the bow, then sell me some of the arrows."

"A bow is useless without arrows, and arrows are useless without a bow," I had said, and walked away.

* * *

Slipping out had been far too easy. I went in the night, leaving my room as my foster parents slept, and slipped out of the compound. The trick was to look like you knew what you were doing, to blend in, and then no one questioned you. I was able to get out of the city half past two in the morning, with no interruptions.

And now I felt guilty. My foster parents probably were worried sick, but the last thing I wanted was a search party sent out for me. I doubted the people of Charleston cared enough to actually go looking for a refugee, but I comforted myself in the fact that I would have at least shown Noah.

"You stupid bastard," I said again, my voice carrying through the abandoned suburban neighborhood. I knew I shouldn't be in here, but I couldn't find the forest that Noah and I had been in before we'd been rescued, and who knew how far away that was. I was angry with both myself and the world, and it was affecting my judgment. Part of me was telling me to make myself small, unheard and unseen, and try and get through the suburbs as quickly as I could, but another part didn't care who saw me, as long as they saw me mad.

I hated Noah for acting like that. I mean, weren't Mormons supposed to be nice? He was a bad one then, I reasoned, and his backround didn't even matter anymore. He was still a jackass.

I picked up a stone and hurled it at a house as hard as I could, but instead of striking the wall, it hit a glass window, shattering it into a thousand pieces and raining glass down two stories as loud as physically possible. I stopped in my tracks and froze, my body going deadly still. My heart was hammering so loudly I thought it would give away my location.

And then I heard the whirring, mechanical drone of a mech, and the heavy thuds of their feet crushing the asphalt. I bolted behind the side of a house, trying the door, which was locked. My heart was pounding, because I'd be killed on the spot, and my arrows could do nothing against their heavy machinery.

I darted in between houses, trying not to catch their eye. They were focused on the broken glass, and I tried another door to see if I could take refuge. Again, it was locked, and my desperation grew deeper. "Oh God, oh God..." I muttered under my breath, curling up on the opposite side of their deck, pressing myself into the corner. I clutched my bow tightly in my arms. I should have gone back, I should have returned to Charleston, or never left in the first place. _Stupid, stupid, stupid..._ I clenched my eyes tightly shut and covered my mouth with my hands to silence my breathing.

With every step the mechs took, I winced, my heart hammering, because they sounded like they were getting closer and closer. I heard the skitter's clicking, screeching language, and my heart plummeted. The situation was hopeless now. I sat up, my back pressed against the side of the house, and loaded my bow, not about to die without a fight. I swallowed any threat of tears, and got to my feet, my heart racing.

I heard a screech above me and saw a skitter hanging down from the roof, poised and ready to strike me. I fired, a direct hit in their soft spot and it fell, inches away from where I was standing. I bolted out from the backyard, and into another, reloading my bow as I ran. I knew I was spotted, and didn't have much time, but I wouldn't stop, I would never stop.

Firing again, I took out two more skitters, but they were gaining on me. I didn't have the energy to run like them, and my stomach was beginning to ache from my wound. I climbed into some kid's abandoned swing set, taking aim between the roof and the walls, and fired, shooting them down like never before as they gained on me, their numbers never seeming to end.

I fingered around for another arrow and withdrew my last. Sighing, my chest collapsing with a slight sob, I kissed the arrow and aimed at the nearest skitter. "Go to hell!" I screamed, and stood up to fire, hitting him directly in the face. And then I stood there, holding my bow in my hands like a double-bladed sword, and braced myself as one tackled me in one jump.

I was slammed down onto the wood of the swing set, swearing I could have heard several bones snap, and shoved my bow against the skitter as hard as I could. With one claw, it snatched the bow from my hands and snapped it in half, as if it were effortless, and cast the broken pieces aside.

"No!" I wailed, feeling as though he had crushed my spirit too, and stared up into the monster's black emotionless eyes. Tears flooded my face, and I swore I could have heard someone scream my name before I blacked out.

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**We're closing near an end, but the story isn't done yet! As always, I hope you're continuing to enjoy this, and please give a review!**


	11. Chapter 11 - Noah

Noah-

"That was Fletcher! That was Fletcher!" I screamed, as the men around me swarmed the area, firing at skitters. I had a gun in my hands, but it was useless, because no way could I actually fire at something and take its life.

The Volm had helped us track her easily. Although I didn't trust them, they had ships patrolling the air, and were able to find her and give us her location easily. They had dispatched a team of men to reclaim her, and I had jumped aboard. Nobody questioned me.

I followed the team after her, slinging my gun behind my shoulder and running as fast as I could towards the swarm of skitters crowded around a swing set. "Fletcher!" Fletcher!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, pure adrenaline propelling me forward. I saw a limp body, a stream of long blonde hair falling back from a bleeding face and I screamed at the top of my lungs, throwing myself at them without thinking.

"No! No, Fletcher!" I tried to push through them, tried to get to her, but they were all far stronger than I was, and one knocked me down like I was some child's plaything. My head hit the grass hard, and I felt the blood rush towards the front of my face, and the gun dig brutally into my back, scraping up the skin under my clothes. The skitter screeched loudly in my face, its hot, vile breath making me gag. Then, with it's claw, it pressed down over my throat, suffocating me.

And I knew why. Because he wasn't trying to kill me, merely send me unconscious. Because to them, I was still a kid, and I could be harnessed. An with a jolt, I realized that that was what they were going to do with Fletcher too.

"Nooo..." I choked, as my vision was bisected and began to rotate around my eyes in a steady, circular pattern. There were gunshots in the background, and several shouts.

And then nothing.

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I awoke to a rancid smell, like chemicals, and smoke mixed into some acidic potion that poisoned the air. I wanted to vomit, but there was nothing in my stomach. I was lying on my chest, my arms and legs clamped to my sides, and I could only move my head.

I was in some sort of factory, it seemed, the lights hot and orange, and strange alien machines and wires hanging down from the ceiling, from what I could see. Before us was a massive tank, with something swimming around in it. I assumed it was not fish. There was another table beside me, and on it a body, unmoving, blonde waves cascading down her back.

"Fletcher," I hissed, my voice raw and savage sounding. "Fletcher, wake up." She couldn't be dead; if she was, they wouldn't keep her here. In the pit of my stomach, I knew why we were here, but I didn't want to acknowledge it, the truth being too horrible to admit. "Fletcher!"

She slowly stirred, and tried to move, but discovered she was immobile like me. "Ugh...what?" She began to wake up, her senses kicking in. "Where am I? Wait...Noah?!" She faced me, her hair falling in her face.

"Try to calm down," I said, my throat constricting. Just looking at her made my heart bleed. "I think...I think we're in some skitter hideout."

"Oh God..." She moaned, dropping her head against the table. "No...no...you know what this means, Noah..." Her lower lip quivered and I knew she was trying hard not to cry. "Oh dear God..."

"Just...just focus on me," I said, trying to calm her down. "Focus on the sound of my voice. Alright?" I knew if I told her it would all be fine, that would be a lie, and I knew better than to lie to her.

"Why on earth did you come after me?" A tear shot down her face. "You could have lived; you could have stayed in Charleston and let the others take care of it."

"Because I wasn't just going to let you go here alone," I said firmly. "I had to find you."

"You're going to be harnessed too - "

"I don't care about that," I choked out. "As long as I die with you, I am content."

"You big stupid - " Fletcher was crying freely now, and so was I.

"I didn't want you to leave because I was scared of losing you," I said, not caring how pitiful my voice sounded.

"I know," Fletcher said softly, smiling through her mess of tears. "And I love you, Noah."

"I love you too," I murmured. I heard the sounds of movement behind me, the soft clicking of skitter feet on the floor. I heard Fletcher give a horrible dry sob, as the skitters approached us. "I'm right here, Fletcher," I called out. "I'm not going anywhere."

"It's not Fletcher," She gasped, staking shallow, rapid breaths. I could see the skitters moving from the corner of my eye, but my gaze was locked on her. "I don't tell anyone this, because it's stupid. So consider yourself special. But my real name...is Lillian."

"Lillian?" I repeated, managing a smile. "Lillian Fletcher."

"Don't laugh," She gave a short chuckle that sounded more sad than anything. "My mom chose it, and I've always hated it."

"It's pretty," I said, and a skitter walked right between us. I shuttered, and it reached over with a claw and laid its claw on my back almost...tenderly. The skitter made soft clicking noises, and I shuddered, my blood going cold.

"Oh, God, it's touching me!" Fletcher cried out in alarm. "The skitter's _touching_ me!"

"It's okay, it's okay," I repeated, even though it wasn't. I knew the actual harnessing would be any second now, and I could feel my heart slamming against the metal table. "Focus on my voice Lilli - okay, I can never call you that. You're Fletcher to me. Just focus on my voice, Fletcher."

"Noah?" She asked, sounding terrified beyond belief. "I want to die. Death in a thousand different ways is better than this."

"I'm so sorry," I murmured, because her words were exactly true. "I do - I do too."

"Oh God...oh God Noah, there's something on my back - " She began and was suddenly cut off, her voice falling silent.

"Fletcher!" I shouted. "Fletcher, can you hear me? Fletcher! Fletcher!"

And then I froze, because I felt something fat and heavy slide onto my back from behind. I clamped my eyes shut and moaned as it slid up my back, stopping right at the base of my skull.

In my mind, I conjured an image of her, the day I first met her, with her shining blond hair falling down her shoulders, her cool, calculating demeanor, the smug smile she seemed to always wear. I thought of her voice, her laugh, the way she said my name. _Noah..._

And then almost all at once, it was gone. I could no longer see Fletcher's face, or hear her voice, or remember anything about her. She was gone, Charleston was gone, my family and friends were gone. And I realized I couldn't remember my own name anymore.

Because there was something else, some_body_ else inside me, dictating my thoughts, siphoning off my memories. I was no longer Noah Holtz, Mormon and show person, I was someone else, someone alien.

And that terrified me.

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**This is the final chapter for Broken Arrow. All I can say as that I hope you enjoyed reading this as I did coming up with the ideas in my head and putting them to paper, er, screen haha. Anyway, if you want, check out my other stuff!**

**Xoxox**

**Jasper**


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